


Everyone's a fool and I'm the biggest.

by Readingfanfics



Series: Prompts [61]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bullying, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, mention of druguse, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 18:31:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14243262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: After a humiliating incident at the Yard, Sherlock has a visitor at his door.





	Everyone's a fool and I'm the biggest.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mary_Jo_Holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_Jo_Holmes/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fools](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247455) by [Mary_Jo_Holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_Jo_Holmes/pseuds/Mary_Jo_Holmes). 



“What are you doing here?” Sherlock snaps, holding the door just so that Lestrade can't come in. He sees the man raise an eyebrow but he doesn't get a response. Instead, Lestrade raises his hand and Sherlock's fake anger turns into sadness as he notices the creme white card between Lestrade's fingers.

_Of course._ He mentally rolls his eyes at himself as he looks at the card with a deadly passion, wanting to snatch it out of the man's fingers and rip it into tiny, little pieces.

“Care to tell me what's been going on?”

_No._ But judging by the set of Lestrade's jaw and the fire in his eyes Sherlock doesn't have a choice and he sighs, shoulders dropping as he opens the door further for the man to enter past him. He can just catch a whiff of the man's shampoo, mixed with something that is pure 'Lestrade' and it lights a fire inside his body.

He closes the door with more force than necessary, cursing himself and his stupid bodily responses as he hears Lestrade take off his coat and walk further inside the flat, sitting down on the sofa. Lestrade has this amazing ability to always feel at ease, no matter where he is and it's something Sherlock envies him for. He makes it look so easy, so simple.

He sits down opposite the man, eyes zooming in on his face and Sherlock can tell he hasn't been sleeping well. The case with the missing children is solved but Sherlock knows Lestrade will think about it for a long time, going over all the events, trying to find out how he can do a better job in the future. It's something he likes about the man, always wanting to improve and learn. Even from an ex-junkie, he's known about 6 months.

“I like what you've done with the place. It looks,” Greg stops, eyes taking in the stacks of books on the shelves and the floor, a couple of papers and files on his desk and coffee table and then smiles. “Like you. It looks like you belong here, I mean. Made it your own.”

Sherlock blinks his eyes, not sure what to say to that and the fact that Greg's smile seems real and honest. It's still hard getting a feel for this man, even 6 months in, every time he thinks he's figured him out, the man does something unexpected. Like showing up at his flat around 8 with that creme white card in hand, wanting to know what's going on.

The card is mocking him on the table and Lestrade's smile dims down when he notices Sherlock looking at it. He hears the man clear his throat, ready to start a heart to heart conversation, but Sherlock speaks up first. Not sure if he wants to hear what Lestrade has to say. Not sure if his heart and fragile nerves can take it.

“It's nothing, Lestrade. Just a joke, nothing more. I'd already forgotten about it.”

Lestrade gives him a look that makes it clear he doesn't believe a word coming out of Sherlock's mouth and some days he wishes the DI was, in fact, an idiot. It would make it easier to slide this all off, act like it's indeed, just a joke and doesn't mean anything.

“I recognize the handwriting, Sherlock. This isn't just nothing.” Lestrade opens the card and just seeing the words in the soft light of his flat makes Sherlock want to cry again.

Happy April Fools', Freak!

It's like pins are being placed all over his body again and he averts his gaze for a second, focusing on the stack of books he's planning to read this month. Not a lot, just six, but he's really looking forward to it and thinking about reading helps him calm his mind a bit. It doesn't make him forget what happened earlier today.

The surprise and flare of hope when he'd gotten the flowers from the delivery man. The happiness when he'd confirmed it was his name on the outside of the envelope attached to the flowers. The sweet smell of the roses in his nose before he'd pulled out the card, curious from who they could be. The disappointment and pain when he'd read those words, realizing the whole team had been standing around him when he dropped the card to the ground. The whispered voice in his ear, taunting him just before he jolted back to life and ran out of the office, ignoring Sally's questioning call.

“ _Did you really think someone would love you? You heartless, freak.”_

“Sherlock?!”

He snaps out of his thought by Lestrade's hand on his shoulder, jolting when he feels the man sitting next to him on the sofa, his eyes concerned and kind. That's almost worst then all the rest, seeing the genuine concern in those brown eyes, the warmness of Lestrade's hand on his shoulder, going straight through his homewear.

“You okay?”

He nods his head, shaking Lestrade's hand of his shoulder and he sees the understanding gaze as he gets up and walks towards the kitchen. He needs to move, find something to do to clear his mind and he starts pulling out teacups, concentrating on making tea for both of them. He can hear Lestrade stand up and follow him, standing behind him but he can't turn around and face him. It's stupid, being so shaken up by a silly prank and he wants to rip something apart, being angry at himself for being emotional. Being weak.

“How long has this been going on?” Lestrade's voice is soft and compassionate and Sherlock wants to turn around and scream at him.

_STOP BEING SO NICE TO ME! I DON'T NEED YOUR PITTY!_

Instead, he swallows a few times, biting his lip hard before turning around, the water ready to make the tea. Lestrade just watches him, sitting down a nearby chair, nodding his head in thanks when Sherlock slides a cup of hot tea his way and it's another thing he likes about the man. He never pushes too much, too fast but gives you time to find the right words. Gives you time to decide if you want to say something.

_Can I trust him?_

It's a question he's been asking himself a lot these past months. Some days he thinks he can, seeing how the DI interacts and reacts to other people. How he can always be kind, even when he's having a rough day. Then other days he still thinks the man is up to something, just waiting for Sherlock to drop his guard down before he attacks. _Why else would he tolerate me around him? An ex-junkie with a smart mouth._

“Not long.”

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock looks up, hearing the tiniest bit of irritation in the man's voice and he takes a spoon to stir his tea, the smell of citrus calming him down.

“Maybe two months. Almost three.”

“Sherlock, why didn't you say anything?”

Sherlock shrugs a shoulder, not sure himself why he didn't say something the moment it started. It had seemed innocent at first and he'd blamed it a bunch of things. His complicated past, his weird social skills, his knowledge of all things crime related, his rejection to Andrews pass.

“ _Like I'd even want you, Freak! I can do so much better than a careless robot!”_

It's not the first time he's been called names and ignoring the taunts is usually the quickest way to get them to stop but with Andrews, it only fired him up more. He'd found a copy of his record from when he'd been a teen and of course had shared the best bits with his fellow teammates. His drug use, the overdose, his mandatory stay at the psychiatric hospital after his failed suicide attempt. It made people look at him differently but he still thought it would die down over time. All that mattered was the work, the people he helped and the criminals and murderers he helped put away.

Then, somehow, Andrews had found out about his feelings for Lestrade.

“I'm being serious Sherlock. We don't tolerate bullying at the Yard. You should have come to me.”

Lestrade reaches out to touch him but Sherlock puts his hands on his mug, feeling his throat close up by the fierceness of Lestrade's reaction. Not even his own family would react like that, telling Sherlock to man up and just forget about it. It's another thing he likes about Lestrade, he's not afraid to show his emotions and Sherlock finally meets the man's eyes, needing to see the warmth of them.

“I'm- I'm sorry.”

He still doesn't know how Andrews figured it out. Did he look at Lestrade too long one day? Did he stand too close? Was he too eager to help? Did he show off too much? It doesn't really matter now, the fact that Andrews knows makes Sherlock's stomach turn, afraid for what the man will do with the information.

The flowers had been a way to taunt him, making Sherlock have hope that they were from the person he wanted them to be. The man sitting in front of him now, sipping his tea slowly, not keeping his eyes off Sherlock. For a second, just before opening the card, he'd actually believed a man like Lestrade would send him a bouquet of red roses. Realising the truth had been humiliation and soul-crushing and he'd dropped the flowers on the floor, running out of the building as fast as he could.

“Why should you be sorry, Sherlock? You didn't do anything to deserve this. I've already talked to Andrews-”

“What?” Sherlock looks up, almost hurting his neck by how fast he does it, seeing the confusion on Lestrade's face.

“I told you, I recognize the handwriting. Do you really think I wouldn't do something about it?”

“But. But he's your-”

“Colleague?” Greg finished Sherlock's sentence, raising an eyebrow when Sherlock nods like a fool.

“That doesn't excuse his behavior, Sherlock. Which, by the way, is disrespectful and makes it clear Andrews is unfit for a job at the Yard. As of today.”

“You- you fired him?” Sherlock's blinks his eyes rapidly as Greg nods his head once, a tightness near his mouth as their eyes meet.

“Monday I'm having a meeting with the rest of the team. This is serious Sherlock. You say it's been going on for almost three months and no one has helped you. That's not what I expect from my people. They need to do much better.”

Greg takes another sip of his tea, eyes on fire and Sherlock opens and closes his mouth to say something but he's lost for words. All he can do is give Lestrade a smile, his heart fluttering in his chest when the man returns it, his smile real and bright. Suddenly his nerves kick in and he stumbles over his words.

“Did- what did you? Has Andrews- Did he?” He can feel his face flame up and closes his mouth with a snap, hating how he always feels out of his depth with this man. Lestrade tilts his head, squinting his eyes a bit and Sherlock looks down at his tea mug, tracing the outline of the bees that are decorated on it.

“Sherlock.”

He looks up, jolting again when he sees Lestrade stand next to him, a warm hand being placed on his shoulder and it's very hard not to lean closer to him, to soak up his warmth and wrap himself in Lestrade's smell.

“I know.”

“Wh-What?” He blinks his eyes, not able to breathe as Lestrade keeps him pinned down with his gaze, a gentle smirk on his lips.

“I'm not an idiot, Sherlock. I didn't need Andrews to tell me, though he did, in fact, tell me.”

“Oh.”

Sherlock's world stops as his secret is out in the open now, heart pounding inside his chest. Lestrade takes his hand off his shoulder and Sherlock stands up, focusing on the bees on his tea mug as he speaks, voice sounding like sandpaper.

“Then I'll ask for a transfer first thing on Monday. You won't have to be worried about your career, I'm sure I'll-”

“Sherlock, stop.” Lestrade holds him by the elbow, pulling him back and Sherlock can't figure out the man's expression.

“I don't want you to transfer and I'm not worried about my career.”

“But-”

“No.” Lestrade shakes his head, putting a finger on Sherlock's lips and it's all he can focus on, his world reduces to that small space where Lestrade's finger is in contact with his lips.

“You're not listening to me, Sherlock. I know. I know,” Greg smiles, slowly removing his finger, the brightness of his growing smile almost blinding Sherlock. “And I'm still here. Do you understand?”

“No?” Sherlock asks, voice barely a whisper, heart ready to rip out of his chest as hope spreads throughout him.

“No?” Lestrade whispers, hand coming up to brush away a stray curl and Sherlock holds his breath as the man comes closer, warm air being blown onto his cheek. “I thought you were a genius, Sunshine?”

Before he can protest to any of it, the claim he's a genius, the use of the nickname, Lestrade's lips are on his and suddenly it all makes sense.

“Figured it out now?” He's a bit out of breath when they pull apart, loving the smirk on Lestrade's lips as the man's fingers brush his cheek before resting on the back of his neck and playing with his nape.

“No. I think you need to help me understand, just a little bit more.”

“My pleasure, Sunshine.” Sherlock can feel the smile on Lestrade's lips when the man kisses him again and all he can do is smile back. He's starting to figure it out, one kiss at a time.

The End.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the story Fools by Mary_Jo_Holmes and I got permission from them to write the Sherstrade version of it. Thank you and I hope you like it Mary_Jo_Holmes!
> 
> I didn't use Anderson as the bully cause I made Andrews up in one of my stories and now he's a person that shows up quite a lot in them, mostly for the role of 'evil' person.
> 
> See you soon!


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